Retribution of the Condemned
by Whispered Rhiannon
Summary: AU Primarily BV. Following the 'Cell Games,' prophecy brings to light that Cell wasn't the last of the dark to rise. Enmities encompassing eons come into play, and threats of complete dimensional distortion make this a dangerous game.
1. Part One

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own and did not create DBZ or its characters. Any original characters are mine and are not to be used without written permission._

_This is an alternate universe so it's obviously going to be different than what 'really' went on. If you flame me because of this I will simply ignore it. This occurs after the 'Cell Games' although things may be different than what occurred according to canon, they will be similar. At some point I hope to write of how Buruma and Vejiita came to be, and how we arrived at the beginning of this tale, but that is a separate story. - WR_

**Part 1:**

_"The walls we build around us to keep sadness out also keeps out the joy." - Jim Rohn_

It was the rustling coming from the room which fully awakened him from himself. He had naturally awakened from sleep early in the morning, when the only noise coming from the room near his tree were the soft, slumbering sounds of the woman within.

He could have made his way into the room then, laid down beside her and let her cuddle up to him, unaware in her sleep of the anger and sadness that consumed her. He could have buried his head in her bosom and tried to forget the events of the previous day. He could have stayed while she screamed at him, instead of taking off for the cold solitude of the forest. He could have stayed _there_ instead of creeping back in the middle of the night to caress her face, to breathe in her scent, to stroke back the hair from her lidded eyes. He could have admitted to her that he needed her, especially now.

He could have admitted that to _himself_.

Yet he did not. He preferred to cover up his neediness with arrogant and willful actions, separating them at perhaps the bitterest point in their relationship.

She would neither forgive his actions of the past three years, nor his inattentive attitude towards her in the airplane accident.

He would not forgive Kakarott for dying.

It wasn't an unforgivable death to be blamed on a fallen comrade, for although he had been placed in that position, he didn't consider Kakarott so. His loathing of the extremely un-Saiyajin-like man and all he stood for and believed in wouldn't allow it. It couldn't possibly be the fact, for all his faults, Kakarott was the closest companion he had on the blue planet he tentatively labeled his 'home.'

It was because Kakarott was the last tie he had to his long dead race. To Vejiitasei. To familiarity and a sense of true belonging in his place in the universe. In Kakarott's eyes, he would most likely always remain an ex-foe, a caged villain, a great sparring partner, and most disgusting of all, a friend. To him, Kakarott had always been the last remaining _true_ member of his race. No matter how human he was in his behavior, he too felt the pull of his Saiyajin blood, however repressed. He felt the honor in battle and the death resulting from it. Their sons did not. The call of the human blood that polluted their veins would not allow it. They might have been strengthened by the mix of Saiyajin and human DNA, but they were held in check for the most part by the pathetic human ideals of peace and compassion.

There was nothing binding him to the planet now. Kakarott was dead and so was the goal he had chased after with an all-consuming fervor. A fanaticism so strong it even surpassed the desire he had felt for so long; the need for the death of Frieza by his own hands. His son had taken care of the former, and Kakarott's demise had successfully rendered the latter unattainable. Forever.

He would never get a chance to surpass him.

Nothing bound him to this tiny little planet, its skies as blue as the oceans. As her eyes. Nothing bound him to this solitary outpost of the universe, far from all other inhabited worlds. Nothing prevented him from blasting off towards oblivion. Nothing prevented him from losing himself in the icy blackness that enveloped space.

Nothing perhaps, except the woman.

Unbeknownst to him, a true smile spread over his face at the thought of her. Not a smirk, not the scowl of displeasure he usually sported, but an honest, if almost imperceptible, smile. Immediately he squelched it, furrowing his face back into the dark, smoldering and somewhat icy stare he had perfected for earth. Not openly hostile, but definitely not a friendly demeanor. But the truth was there, locked inside his heart, if not yet viable outside his most hidden dreams.

The woman _pleased_ him. Beyond his physical needs.

Worst of all, this fact _delighted_ him. This was the hardest fact to absorb, so he ignored it as much as he could. As much as she would let him. The fact that of late she let him clutch his misery to his chest like something precious was rather disturbing.

When he had first come to stay at her house, ostentatiously only to accept the pampering she offered as well as the technological marvels she could build, she had tried to melt the impenetrable encasement of ice that locked away his heart. Friendship, she had called it. She had still been with the despicable human at the time, even though he sensed it wouldn't last. She was too strong-willed. Her mental capacity overshadowed the human's physical power, and her fiery nature eroded the man's soft and feeble personality. When she had discontinued the relationship, he could almost sense the man's relief. A relationship could not work when one felt completely overpowered by the other. Even the weakling had some pride, and he could not retain his essence in a relationship that threatened it.

He could not deny he had been greatly amused by the turmoil of the doomed union, but neither could he refute his satisfied feelings at the end of it. He admired her resiliency, her drive, her fighter's spirit. Her lithe and curvaceous form.

The inevitable clashing of their passionate natures in a more romantic sense had produced a son, if not emotional attachment. Or it was assumed so by both parties involved.

It was not simply the thoughts of _her_ that troubled him. Last night he had dreamed strangely. One could say he never truly dreamed, he simply remembered. He had dreamt of a woman who he had never laid eyes upon. She reminded him of his faint few memories of his mother, possessing the dark-colored hair and eyes of a Saiyajin, yet there was something ethereal in her appearance. He could only make out her face, for her body seemed robed in a white fabric that blended into her surroundings. The one thing that stayed embedded in his mind was the expression in her eyes. They had been filled with such murderous rage, such desire for revenge, that he almost believed she was the collective specter of his past; the revenge of the slaughtered come to besiege him until the end of his days. Then she had spoken in a haunted tone, the words in Classical Saiyago echoing in his skull,

"_Ex'iel fa'go, Vejiita au Vejiitasei, Lunare rou Saiyajin."_

"_Ex'iel approaches, Vejiita of Vejiitasei, King of the Saiyajin."_

and over it all had been the endless screaming of a female, coupled with violent pains that manifested all over his body. He knew that Saiyajin possessed the possibility for great mental powers, yet not only had there been no evidence of these manifested within the last one thousand years, but also clairvoyance had never been listed as one of the abilities of the gifted. However, he felt certain that it wasn't something to be taken lightly. It was a sign.

All thoughts of the strange, ghostly woman and her message were cut short as the French doors that divided the room and the balcony attached to it were slowly nudged open, and the woman, _his_ woman, emerged. Unfortunately, it was for her first smoke of the day. Clothed in only a short, loosely belted robe, she leaned heavily on the railing of the balcony, one hand held close to her mouth to be ready for the next drag, the other idly running her fingers through her sleep-tousled hair.

He could almost, _almost,_ forgive her the earth-termed cigarette.

He shifted slightly on his seat on the limb of the tree, and then dropped off noiselessly to float in the air below it. Smoothly, he glided over to her, crossing his arms and waiting for the sleepy-eyed woman to open them fully and acknowledge his presence. He received a large puff of tobacco smoke exhaled at the exact angle to hit him squarely in the face. He spluttered, the harsh fumes causing the inside of his sensitive nose to feel like it was on fire. Coughing out the foul, and now he knew, disease causing smoke, he glared at her coldly and moved back to breathe in cool fresh air.

"You don't have to seem so surprised Vejiita, I knew you came back last night, and you didn't have the balls to stay in the house, so this was the obvious solution." She exhaled slowly, savoring the taste of the tobacco. "It's not like you've never spent the night in a tree."

Wildly, he examined all corners of his consciousness for the thousandth time, and when he was quite certain there was no connection tying him to the woman he relaxed. It was simply one of her odd perceptions, a gift that he had always intrigued him. He cleared his throat slowly.

"Vejiita..." She rolled the word over her tongue slowly, eloquently, almost soothingly. He didn't expect her to be in a soothing mood, not after the torrid battle of tongues that they had engaged in the night before. "Chi called me this morning..."

"So that explains why your lazy ass is out of bed before the sun is highest in the sky" he purred, slipping back into the comfortable routine of exchanged barbs. Here he was in his element, here he was a match, here he knew where he stood and what to expect in return.

"She..." The woman paused, her eyes bleak, then she fell to her inner strength, a pool of reserve so deep that he had barely touched its depths and yet he stood in awe of it. He respected it. It was something very Saiyajin in nature, and therefore he looked upon it with pride. "She's going to be making arrangements for Son-kun..." Her voice caught a little on the oft-used term of affection. "I know there is no body to be interred, but she wishes for something to _honor_ him." The emphasis on the word was unmistakable.

"What does the funeral of..." he stopped mid-sentence. The man had proved himself not a weakling. "What does the funeral of that bastard have anything to do with me? He was my rival." He choked upon the words, but the steely gaze of her blue eyes had prevented him from going on angrily about his former subject. "It will no doubt be a pathetic human custom."

"She told me, that you are welcome." The woman ignored his attempts to draw her into a contest of insults. "Gohan told her about your actions. I was surprised to hear about them " She stopped. "Considering your attitude toward me and _my_ son all this time."

"Stupid female." The term seemed almost endearing. Perhaps it was because of his restless night. He carefully made sure it could not be taken as such. "What use do I have for you, or either of your spawn."

"You never have had much use for me, Vejiita" she smirked, "until the sun has set. Then it seems you cannot bear to keep yourself away, at least while you're on planet." He could feel the rage emanating off him along with his ki, and he laughed as it blew the hair wildly around her face and put out the cause of the irritating smoke.

"I haven't touched you in over two of your earth years, silly woman. Do you honestly think you continue to have the power to lure me with sex? You, an alien so weak that the mere act of coupling might kill you if I were in any way passionate?" He knew this was not true, and he gritted his teeth.

"Really Vejiita, the night we shared I seem to remember differently..." Her demeanor was hard and ruthless, born of a desire to conquer to feelings of inadequacy he invoked within her, but her eyes betrayed her, tears threatening to spill. She would not let them drop. There was only one time she had cried before him, he remembered it distinctly. It was the day she had sought him out in the wilderness, the day she had told him she carried his son. The day that he had crushed her forever. He had already known, of course, and had wanted nothing to do with it. It was the very day after that he had sneaked into the hangar on the compound, and fled whilst they were all occupied with her impending condition. A cowardly position he still regretted, but that had served its purpose: separation from the woman.

Their half-hearted argument was cut short at the sudden appearance of their son, the young man from the future who now came careening around the side of the building, shirtless, half-asleep and blind as he attempted to don the rest of his attire mid-air. The sudden raising of his ki must have awakened and alarmed the boy, causing him to rush to aid his father in protecting his mother from any dangers. He stopped, seeing them talking as well as his mother's state of undress. He blushed profusely and turned his back on them.

"Your presence is not needed here boy," he growled.

"Father, I..." Trunks mumbled some words of apology, turning and staring at the ground like a scolded juvenile. He raised his face and gave a quiet smile, one intended to show he accepted his father's dominance over their tentative relationship.

Cursing himself for a fool, he looked away, ashamed deep within himself that he had relieved himself of some of the frustration he felt towards the impossible female that was the mother on the son. He could feel their eyes on him, one in accusation, the other searching the edges of his mind and ki, trying to ascertain his mood. The boy was as untrained as himself in mental touch, yet his was much lighter, presumably because he was very passive around his father. It was in this pondering of just how far his son's abilities stretched that he looked at the rosy sky in the east, seeing two trails of light left by those flying through use of ki as well as two different energy signatures. They were not unfamiliar nor were they malicious but they didn't promise anything in the way of pleasure to his taste and so he spat on the ground in annoyance.

Kakkarott's brat and the Namekian.

His son looked surprised at the intrusion of their 'family reunion' yet he seemed more relaxed. Gohan landed quite perfunctorily on the balcony and embraced Buruma with all the innocence and ignorance only a pre-adolescent could muster. The other figure remained in the air, staring coolly at him and his son. He glared back venomously, daring Piccolo to speak.

"The three of you need to come with us to the tower." It was a demand, not a request.

"I do what I please, your petty Namekian rituals have no interest to me." The dragon balls could not be raised for a years time, therefore anything related to the Guardian of Earth had no interest to him.

"The preparations have been made." Piccolo seemed unimpressed by his statement, and simply stared impassively at the woman. "I suppose you know that I have rejoined with the one who guarded this planet for almost a millennia." The woman nodded her head, azure curls falling over her eyes. "Then you know through him I have seen a great many things, and that I am permitted to share with you certain truths. All those joined in the collective vision must be present for the conditions to be met. Without it, balance will not be achieved."

"I will ensure our appearance at the appointed time." She seemed to understand the warrior's cryptic message and smiled the smile of one who waits. "You may go on with your message, we will appear before the sun sets." Quietly dismissing the conference, she walked noiselessly through the French doors and shut them behind her, cutting off any argument before he could put his refusal into words. Following her example, the early morning visitors left with great haste.

"Damnit." If he was going to have to do what was asked of him, and he was, because one could not call the Prince of all Saiyajins devoid of curiosity, he was going to do it on a full stomach. Squaring his shoulders he walked stiffly and moodily in the direction of the kitchen, unresponsive to his silent son's look of chagrin.


	2. Part Two

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own and did not create DBZ or its characters. Any original characters are mine and are not to be used without written permission._

_This is an alternate universe so it's obviously going to be different than what 'really' went on. If you flame me because of this I will simply ignore it. This occurs after the 'Cell Games' although things may be different than what can only went on, they will be similar. - WR_

**Part 2:**

_"The feeling of inferiority rules the mental life and can be clearly recognized in the sense of incompleteness and un-fulfillment, and in the uninterrupted struggle both of individuals and humanity." - Alfred Adler_

The woman who appeared before them was not exactly what Vejiita had in mind but perhaps this was more convenient, because this one was so lacking of brains that she was able to concentrate on what she was cooking. He had absolutely decided for certain that _that_ was the reason that _she_ couldn't cook. It was because she lacked the patience to wait calmly, and became so absorbed in pursuits that pleased her more that she didn't awaken to the fact that she _had_ been cooking until the shrill shrieking of the smoke detecting machines reminded her. He ignored the nagging little voice in the back of his head with practiced excellence. It sounded annoyingly like her, and announced that the only reason he wasn't the same way was because food was the most important thing in his life, beyond training.

"Oh Vejiita!"crowed the blond mother, in a way that always set his teeth on edge. "I'm sure you're starving after having saving us from those monsters! Let me make you some breakfast!" She gestured in the direction of the large honey-colored wood table that sat in before a large bay window in the kitchen. "Such a nice boy," she cooed happily.

He stared at her for an instant, his keen senses focused completely on her, hands clenching at his sides. He didn't want to be coddled, he was a hard, trained warrior, he had killed millions without a second thought, without breaking a sweat. It seemed this remained beyond her comprehension. This baffled him. He knew that this woman didn't possess anywhere near the amount of brainpower her mate wielded, and yet she had brought one of the most intelligent beings in the universe into existence, this was fact. It seemed to him that she was entirely left behind in the dust. The feeling of being surpassed time after time until counting was negligible wasn't new to him. He flipped her a sneer, and then sank down upon the cushioned seat of the hard wooden bench. He supposed he might as well keep the mother alive, no one else cooked as well as she did, with the exception of Kakkarott's mate. Just the thought of the screeching that went on anytime he was even anywhere in the vicinity of that bitch gave him a precursory headache. He eyed the golden-haired creature warily and growled as blue eyes, devoid of all intelligence, washed over his body. She tittered in her bird-like way, and blushed deeply, putting her hands to her face. He almost slapped himself at the frustration of having to be around her, but made a mental note to spare her in the event that he decided to become ruler of the universe. This was _just_ so that his servants could learn her recipes.

"Ahhh, Trunks-kun!" she chirruped fondly at the newcomer, while Vejiita pointedly looked away from his grown son. The embarrassment he felt for an instant about the events of the months, no years, previous was soon swept away by anger, both at himself for his over-enraged reaction to his son's death and for allowing that freakish devil of a creation to achieve its final form. His blood had sung at the temptation of challenge, yet it was undeniably shameful, even in the emotionally restricted Saiyajin society, to let it kill his kin, and even more so to let the vengeance be carried out by a half-grown whelp.

"Good morning, Grandmother," the boy had answered with utmost politeness.

"Now don't you go calling me that, I'm much too young to have a grandson so grown-up and handsome! It's too bad you can't stay, I'd have so much fun matching you up with some of girls around here. They'd go wild for you!" Giggling at the thought, she turned back to flipping the fifteen pancakes she had laid out on the huge iron griddle on the stove. Trunks blushed beet-red in response, and silently looked out the window at the rising sun.

* * *

Lenora Briefs sighed as she looked at the two men sitting at her kitchen table. One she knew very well by sight, the other reminded her so much of her beloved husband as he had been as a young man. Although his features were all his father, his coloring was that of her husband, and of her daughter, before her glorious lavender hair had matured to deep blue in her early adulthood. She hoped that there would be some kind of truce called before the poor dear had to go back to his horrible time. She didn't exactly understand how it had been achieved, but she knew that her daughter could have done it. Why she had done it was obvious, her daughter was stubborn beyond belief, and yes, saving them was commendable. But why had she done it?

She had always kept her slight and clouded visions of the future to herself, and her mother, and then to her husband. It had proved useful, that little gift of hers that came to all the women in her family. Those little, wispy glimpses of what was to come coupled with a slightly stronger ability to sense the feelings of others. It had been immensely helpful when she and her love had started their company. She had passed this down to her daughter Buruma, although Buruma didn't believe that she had it. Sometimes though, she was unable to deny her foretelling dreams, and would angrily return to her mechanical projects. But her daughter couldn't deny her mother's obvious ability. She had always taught her Buruma never to interfere with the future, that there were things that were meant to happen, and that not all of them would be pleasant. It was how she had been taught, and how her mother had been, stretching back countless generations. The girl had been too headstrong, and without any guidance, had willfully created an alternate time line, although unintentionally.

She jumped slightly at the rumble that came from both stomachs currently housed in the bodies waiting patiently for sustenance. She realized she had stopped in her cooking, inadvertently burning 5 pancakes. Shaking the thoughts away, she almost grimaced as she gave the now characteristic annoying titter and saw Vejiita's eyes roll in annoyance. She was used to it now, that look her companions gave her sometimes, the look one has when nails are pulled achingly slow down a blackboard. But it was better for them not to know. Pretending to be a complete fool was better than having to explain away premonitions that sometimes didn't come true. She wasn't as smart as her husband or daughter, but it didn't mean they should automatically dismiss her as an idiot. Though, it made it far easier to garner from people what she wanted. She hastily finished cooking, set the two huge platters down in front of the two saiyajins, and put a small plate under the broiler to keep warm for her daughter. She smoothed her apron in an unconscious attempt to calm herself. It was then the vision came, as she smiled sweetly down at the two eating men, unbidden and shocking. She saw the road stretching out before them, the long journey seeming endless before peace. She almost saw it all, felt the agonizing pain of her daughter, heard the low howl of someone and then it was lost to her. And she fled helplessly to her room, hoping the tears would not overcome her before she reached it.

* * *

Buruma snarled inwardly. Why did she have to be reminded of painful aspects of her past when she was dealing with the second most devastating event of her life? Angrily, she swept her dresser of all objects, intent on finding the other silver hoop earring she removed the night before. Failing to uncover it, she burst through the door to her room, pounded down the floors of the upstairs corridor and hurled a particularly disgusting and probably priceless vase at a closed door. Her normally mild-mannered father emerged from behind it, the eyes behind his glasses glinting dangerously, but somehow sensing the impending storm, he gave her a curt nod and then fled helplessly down the stairs.

Why did this all have to happen just when she decided to quit smoking again?!

She'd given up smoking as soon as she discovered her pregnancy and today she'd decided that she would give it up for good. Smoking with a young baby in the house should be prohibited. Moodily she fluffed her semi-damp hair and resisted the urge to race back to her room and light up, letting the soothing affects of the tobacco calm her. So absorbed was she in the inner battle to _not_ give in to selfish pleasures that she almost missed her mother running up the stairs and shutting the master bedroom door with a soft thump.

She gave an unladylike snort, surmising that one of her foolish parent's television dramas was starting. She failed to see the appeal of them, and why they were so important to her mother, especially now. The remembrance of the old Namek's words brought back to her all the rage and jealousy of her childhood. Those coupled with the feelings of insufficiency she still felt to this day.

Her mother had passed her a faulty gift.

That's what Lenora called it, a gift. To Buruma, it felt like a curse. A mar in her perfection. The gift had manifested itself within her in a way she couldn't stand. Her mother had the gift of clairvoyance, she called it. She could see the future, even in a way that Uranai Baba couldn't. Baba's foretelling wasn't a gift, it was an art that she had practiced for many years. Witches didn't come by the gift naturally, her mother had told her. It had to be honed and even then, it was ambiguous. The future stretched before them in a multitude of paths. Baba, through sheer will and skill, saw them, saw the futures that could come, but she couldn't recognize the singular driving destiny. Any decision each person made had multiple outcomes, this caused there to be multitudes of possible destinies. Baba could not distinguish between these and true destined events. She could see the future, but it was rare that she would stumble upon a large event with accuracy, although she was quite adept at smaller ones. Lenora was different. She had the sight for the true force, because hers was a genuine gift. Yet her gift lacked great strength. She couldn't call upon her gift whenever she wished, as more powerful ancestors of hers had done. Or so her mother claimed. Buruma sometimes didn't know whether or not her mother told her all of the truth. She couldn't lie about her visions, but she could withhold information, something that Buruma couldn't stand. She also couldn't stand the limits of her 'gift.'

Her mind was limitless; there wasn't anything scientific she couldn't grasp. Mechanics was what had most of her attention, but she dabbled in almost all fields with the greatest of ease. But where her gift was concerned she didn't have any power. Coming through to her in dreams, her own meager abilities in clairvoyance allowed her to see hazy bits of the future. Angered by this, most of the time she kept it repressed, and it only came back to her in the form of déjá vu. Her mother had taught her how to meditate when she was a small girl, hoping that it would calm her spirited daughter as well as help her hone her gifts. It hadn't helped. All it had done was show her how little she had. She felt some sort of extrasensory presence in her mind; it hung tantalizingly just beyond reach, beyond an uncrossable barrier. Learning anything had come easily to her, and faced with this unflinching challenge she had become enraged, stopped all her training and ignored it, never to face it again. Vejiita changed all that. After their night of passion, the prodigal gift returned in full force. Even her most vivid foretelling dreams involved him. She knew he returned during the night for a specific reason. She dreamt it.

And Piccolo's words brought back to her the meeting she had years and years ago. With Kami. She'd almost forgotten it till now...but she could still call back the events as plainly as if they'd happened yesterday. She'd been barely twenty then, and went to visit Goku at the Sky Palace, when she'd come face to face with the old Namekian who watched over her planet.

"_Buruma, my child, what brings you here on this beautiful day?" the stooping figure had asked._

"_I've come to visit Goku!" she had replied haughtily. "If you're Kami and all, shouldn't you know that already?"_

"_Sharp as ever, that fiery nature shall serve you well..." he had laughed softly, the wheezy laugh of the very old._

"_I have enough of that pathetic fortune-telling from my mother." She'd spat out the last few words._

"_And what of your gift my dear?"_

"_I _have no_ gift you old doddering old fool!" she raged back at him, her eyes narrowing. _

"_Child, your gift is such that you are displeased with it. This is unfortunate, for it will be needed, however far in the future it may be." _

_She snorted in response. _

"_Believe it or not. Just know that I have powers that go beyond your mothers, beyond Uranai Baba. As you are still young yet, perhaps you would have me quiet your powers for now."_

_She nodded slowly, and stepped closer. She trusted him. After all, he _was _God of Earth_._ "If you would, I would be rid of them entirely."_

"_It is not in my power to remove what the Creators have given you, but I shall silence it, for a time." He laid a wrinkled hand on her brow, and she'd felt the calming feeling within her. He would not lie, and she rejoiced at the idea of not seeing the vague dreams of the future again._

"_Thank you, for your kindness Kami-sama." He chucked at her use of his formal title._

"_I have simply slowed and silenced the gift within you. But for this favor, I must ask for one in return. When I return to you, the time of your destiny is near. I may come in my true form, but I do not know if that will come to pass, and if it does, I shall not be unknown to you. When this happens, come with your husband and grown son to this place once more, when the sun and moon both bathe the world with their light. Will you promise to do this?"_

_She pondered his request. If he had referred to her husband, who she hoped would be Yamucha, and her grown son, it must be that this wouldn't take place for a great many years. And by then, he might forget anyhow. "I will promise you this, but only because you have lifted me of this curse."_

_He smiled a knowing smile. "I told you, I could not remove the gift. When it starts to return, know that what must come to pass is approaching."_

_Snarling, she ignored his last statement, for she preferred her version to his own. "If you don't mind I'd really like to see Goku, seeing as _he's_ the reason I came _all _the way up here!"_

Sighing, she leaned against the side of the hallway. Kami and Piccolo had rejoined. That was what he must have meant by his true form, because he was now whole again. She was tempted not to keep the promise, because Kami really was no more. Piccolo, however, seemed to retain everything, so could she really say Kami was gone? What she would do, if she chose to, was obvious. She would have to bring Vejiita, because that was the closest thing she had to a husband. She'd also have to bring the Trunks from the future. Kami must have known somehow that he would come backwards in the stream of time. Trunks would be easy...but convincing Vejiita... Still, she remained confident in her abilities to manipulate the Saiyajin Prince into doing what she wanted. Blackmailing him with no gravity chamber would be enough. She just had to get them to the Sky Palace on time. Smirking in self-satisfaction at her brilliance, she deduced she'd have to get them there just at sunset, when the moon would be rising. That meant she had to calm herself and steal the chamber and hide it before Vejiita noticed. Her self-assured additude soon returning, she masked her pain and with her head held high, walked down the stairs and toward the kitchen.


End file.
